Son of a...

Jury's back in on Sauron the molomancer. Meet Mr Malignant Melanoma! They think they got it all, but in order to be sure, time for more surgery! Damn, damn, damn!

I know it could be worse. The whole thing got nowhere near my lymphatic system, and this new surgery is apparently standard procedure for when Moles reveal themselves to be evil fuzzy little traitors.

But I didn't really think it was serious. I thought the world and his dog was making a fuss about nothing. Dammit, I trusted my GP! He told me not to come back until the mole was the size of a penny. What the f**k? Apparently it's the thickness that matters; a thin mole is .7/.8 mms, a thick one is 3 or 4 mms. Mine was 1.2 mms, and it was far smaller than a penny. Had I followed doctors orders the damn thing might have started its own mining operation long before anyone noticed!

Well, I guess we're all tired and work too hard, and we all make mistakes. And no injections this time, good old general anaesthetic administered via gas. It's standard, it's nothing, and I know it. Still...

Damn!